


Just Another Job

by Toshi_Nama



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Banter, Breakfast, Caves, Competence Kink, F/M, Intimacy, Past Relationship(s), Touching, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:28:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26345617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshi_Nama/pseuds/Toshi_Nama
Summary: ...it was supposed to be just another job. It was NOT supposed to involve that much dirt, or a chapel, or his past, or anything else. Not that Krem minded.To Sunspot - you have done so much for others in the Exchange this year, I couldn't let you go without a gift all your own! I hope your asks from last year are still things you enjoy...'Suffocated by your breath'
Relationships: Cremisius "Krem" Aclassi/Lace Harding
Comments: 16
Kudos: 30
Collections: Black Emporium 2020





	Just Another Job

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunspot (unavoidedcrisis)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unavoidedcrisis/gifts).



“If you want, I can take the boys and have a look,” he muttered to himself as he ducked under another set of cobwebs. The tunnel was exactly what he’d expected: cold, dank,  _ dirty,  _ and full of cobwebs, creepy-crawlies, and malicious tree roots just waiting to trip up an innocent merc. “Nothing much, since everything’s gone silent.” It had  _ seemed  _ reasonable at the time, back in Skyhold. It didn’t seem so reasonable now.

A hiss came from in front of him, and Krem shut up. He’d been quiet, but clearly not quiet enough for their guide. “Look,” came the irritated whisper, “if you didn’t want to, then why are you here?”

“Because I did right up til the third time I got slapped in the face by a cobweb after tripping,” he whispered back. “Besides, it’s not being a merc if you don’t complain. It’s in the contract.”

That got a giggle, equally muffled.

“Just how did Sister Leliana know about this anyway? Did you tell her?”

“Nah,” Scout Harding replied. She sounded closer. Then he bumped into a rather warm bit of dwarven anatomy, and grabbed another to keep from falling. Again.

_ Kaffas. _

She giggled. “You’ll have to buy me dinner for  _ that  _ one, Lieutenant. Back to business, though. There were rumors, but this is one Nightingale knew herself. She helped during the Blight, and sneaking through this tunnel was how they saved the Arl.”

Whatever Harding said, she didn’t seem to object to the contact. The fact he’d removed his hand immediately had probably helped, too. He fumbled for the wall to brace himself, his knees hating the half-crouch they were all forced to use - well, all save Harding and Rocky. It  _ had  _ sounded like a simple mission. Go to Redcliffe, see what was up, report back. The Chargers were  _ good  _ at recon. Bull had taught them all how to notice things, even things they didn’t think mattered.

It wasn’t the Inquisitor sending them, but Sister Leliana, who had a light in her eyes and a professional-looking dwarf standing next to her.  _ ‘Scout Harding will guide you in - that will let you see even more than you would if you used the front gates. Start at the old windmill…’ _

He’d gotten distracted, he admitted. Hard not to when the dwarf wrinkled her nose and freckles danced across it. But he’d still picked up the important parts. The mages were gone, probably; there was a secret tunnel, which meant it’d be dirty, and he’d be hearing about it from Dalish the entire trip back; and the Chargers had picked up a guide in the form of Scout Harding, one, dwarf.

She’d been a trove of knowledge along the way, fitting in with the Chargers’ easy familiarity right up until she turned pure professional again at the windmill. And that led them here.

“Psst! Lieutenant, what’s up? We’re suffocating back here!”

“You shouldn’t be, you’ve got your mustache to strain the dirt out of the air,” he whispered back to Rocky. “We’re conferring.”

A hand found his against the wall. It was warm, with short fingers ridged by bow calluses. It squeezed his. “Uh-huh. Conferring,” Harding breathed at him. “We’ve got fifty feet, maybe, then we’ll come out in the dungeons. Teagan changed them to a wine cellar when he took over from Eamon, but who knows what we’ll find.”

He chuckled back at her. “At least the Chargers will be able to breathe. After you.”

Her hand left his, and she darted silently forward. He followed as quietly as he could, his knees popping the way. At least the Chief didn’t come - the Qunari was so big, he’d have had to crawl. It would have been a funny story, but it was better not having to listen to him pissing and moaning. 

Fifty feet was both closer and further than it should be in a cramped, stuffy tunnel. A quick hiss from Harding, and he passed it down the line. With a second, more metallic hiss, he pulled his sword. It echoed down the line of the Chargers as they followed his lead. Krem could feel the tension on his skin as Dalish gathered up her own weapon, and he didn’t bother to look back to spot the faint glow on her ‘bow.’

“Nice and easy,” he murmured back. “Only thing we should have to kill is a bunch of the Arl’s finest bottles, and that’s for after.”

A dry chuckle echoed back up to him. He reached his left hand forward and found hers again, squeezing once.  _ On your time. _

The door, thank Hessarian, didn’t squeak when she pushed. She grunted and he joined his shoulder to hers.

“Damn thing’s stuck.”

“On three?”

They both started pushing at two, and their efforts were answered by a long scrape of wood and three ominous clinks. Her eyes were wide as she slipped through, him close after. At least he was still ‘slender’ - it helped now.

He stared. “Well, I guess this tunnel hasn’t been used in a while.”

“What gave that away?”

“Oh, the wine rack, maybe.” Krem grinned at her. “At least they didn’t break.” The rest of the Chargers squeezed out, a couple gasping deeply of the much less reused air. “There should be a room off to one side and then up, right?”

Even covered in dirt, Harding was still pretty when she returned his smile. “You  _ were  _ listening. I wasn’t sure.”

He blushed a little and hoped his darker complexion would hide it. “I do that, Scout Harding.”

“After that little bit in the tunnel? Lace is fine, Lieutenant.”

“If you’re Lace, then I’m Krem.”

“Krem. It’s a nice name.” It sounded like she was tasting it, and he had to fight down the coil of tension that had no business noticing the way she licked her lip - then grimaced at the dirt. They were here to find Venatori, not...canoodle.

“Chargers?”

The others made various noises of assent at his sudden escape into professionalism.

Then they moved forward.

Two rooms, one staircase, a suddenly discovered closet, and a hallway later, and he opened the door to the chapel only to find out it was actually occupied.

“Fasta vass!” Krem charged at the chanting Venatori, trying not to listen to the details, as one of Lace’s arrows sped past his shoulder to find a friend. “Now!”

The others boiled in to help him crash the tidy little chapel demon summoning. Well, ‘tidy’ if you ignored the body in the middle, still twitching. He  _ hated  _ blood magic almost as much as the Chief did. Two were cut down before the Venatori quite realized what was going on, but that still left five.

Lace’s call interrupted his stream of curses. “Prisoners!” 

He took up the call and then halted. It was as though he had been gripped by magic when one of the cultists looked at him. It wasn’t. It was something worse.

_ Why me? _

Not that he was  _ surprised  _ that Marius had joined a death cult. The mage from his old unit had more sadism than sense and was  _ sure  _ his lack of promotion was due to backstabbing rather than the army actually getting something right.

“Cremissius? Kill her first!”

_ That  _ boiled his blood. “It’s him,” he spat back and charged.  _ Head down, angle the shield, sword braced to one side… _ It worked as Marius gurgled, and something unpleasant dripped off the rim of the shield before it returned to the Fade.

Then the shield started getting hot against his armor. Krem thrust again only to wind up slipping in all the blood, dropping to his knee.

“I’ll enjoy -”

Marius’ taunt was cut off by an arrow shaft suddenly protruding from his eye. Krem stood up shakily and looked for more of his former countrymen. They were all down, Stitches and Dalish bent over a man off to one side. “Stitches?”

“If you don’t interrupt me, I can keep him breathing,” came the curt reply.

His sword was filthy, but he turned to Lace first. “Well, looks like we got one.”

The rest of his words were cut off when she yanked him down and covered his lips with hers. He stiffened before returning the kiss with interest. It wasn’t the first time adrenaline mixed with desire, but he’d never had anyone he was particularly interested in…

Well, Lace was certainly interesting, he thought dazedly.

“Hey, Harding! You’re suffocating the Lieutenant!”

It was with her breath, and he didn’t mind one bit. Not at all. Still, he took more than a few deep breaths when they parted.

“Sure,” she said in a casual voice, though her neck and cheeks were more than a bit red. “We’ll continue the conversation later, Lieutenant?”

“Yeah.” He tried again. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan. Stitches, you stay here. Everyone else, with Lace and me.” Ok, he lingered a bit longer on her name than he should have, but it was worth it to see her eyes dilate just that little bit.

“Yeah. Over breakfast?”

“And away from the demons,” he agreed with a grin. “I’ll have to write my report to Sister Leliana.”

**

_ We were able to enter Redcliffe Castle with none the wiser. While most of the main force had departed, a small group of Tevinter mages was still present. _

Lace peeked over his shoulder, her breasts pressing into his back before she kissed his neck. “Don’t forget the survivor,” she prompted.

“I was getting to it,” he teased back. “Let me write, will you? The sooner I’m done, the sooner we can eat.”

Three days later, and they’d found an inn. With private rooms. And food that didn’t smell like fennec. And a bath. And a remarkably comfortable bed, fit for company. Which meant it was finally time to write the report, especially since Stitches was sure the Venatori mage was going to live.

_ Hopefully Sister Leliana can get some useful information from the survivor about what happened at Redcliffe castle. _

“There,” he said as arms wrapped around his waist, “did I leave out anything?”

“Your heedless bravery and strong sword-arm?”

He chuckled back at her. “I’m sure Sister Leliana doesn’t need to hear about that. Now, what about breakfast?”

Lace kissed his shoulder and her strong fingers traced his ribs. “I suppose.” Then her stomach corrected her reluctance and they both laughed.

“Come on,” he said as he ignored his binder and threw on a shirt, “I’ll beat you down there.”


End file.
